Good News/Bad News

The good news is that I’ve already reached my New Year’s resolution of losing 10 pounds. The bad news is that I spent the first week of the new year in bed with a wicked flu. Between whimpering like a baby and cursing the limitations of modern medicine, I had a lot of time to muse.

I’m not afraid of dying anymore. In fact, at least twice this week I would have gladly taken what was behind door #2, sight unseen. I figured since I was already in hell things could only get better.

I don’t know why we bother waterboarding people to get information. Give them a dose of this flu and withhold Tylenol for an hour. They’ll tell you everything you ever wanted to know.

Chicken soup tastes great. Going down.

The flu defies the basic laws of physics. How can 1 cup of the aforementioned chicken soup morph into two quarts of something else?

Cats really are heartless. In the depths of my misery I accidentally brushed against my cat who was lying on my bed. She scratched me.

First time I’ve watched the Walking Dead and sympathized with the Walkers.

Email inboxes have no compassion. They just keep growing.

But the biggest insult of all? I’m the only one in my family who got a flu shot. Go figure.